


You Know I Couldn’t

by BlackIris



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cop AU, Cop Brunnhilde, Cop Sam, Cop Steve, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Injury, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Mental Anguish, NO character deaths, mental health recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackIris/pseuds/BlackIris
Summary: Prompts will be in bold throughout fic:“Nothing I could do, like I was up there just to watch.” -being Brunhilde/Valkyrie’s line instead of Sam Wilson’s





	You Know I Couldn’t

**Author's Note:**

> Cop AU! With some serious influence from the Edda (cuz I can’t help myself) the poem in particular, if you’re interested is Brunhilde's Ride to Hell. I’ve never written anything like this and it was such a treat to get lost in the process of this piece - I’ve combined several loves into this one.  
> Un-beta'd, enjoy!

“Hey Sam, I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.” Steve says, trying to hide his smile, “Brunhilde. This is Sam Wilson.”

Sam reaches out a hand in greeting, which Brunhilde takes with brief hesitation.  “Sam. You’re not the one he keeps going off about, are you?”

“Depends on what he’s been saying. Never known Steve to be a smooth talker anyhow.” Sam arches a brow at Steve in gest.

Steve rolls his eyes, letting his smile fully bloom. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

* * *

 

And that’s how it started: simple enough. But months and years later, this is how it ends. With a bang. Several really.

Brunhilde was lucky enough to get away with only one slug in her shoulder.

“’Lucky’ is the word  _they_  used. The ones that weren’t there, that don’t know what it’s like.”

“Those without survivor’s guilt?” her therapist interjects in question.

“Yeah, those people.”

“What was it like?”

“It was like nothing.  **Nothing I could do, like I was there just to watch.** ” Brunhilde says, slouching forward to brace her elbows on her knees. “Nothing I could do. I just held him, applied pressure to his wounds, and prayed that the medics would get there in time.”

* * *

 

Sam though had not been lucky like Brunhilde. In this case, he was the bringer of her ‘luck.’ Flying in like his namesake – flinging himself in front of her at the last second.

He caught all but the one. One to the chest, two to the stomach.

Surgery had been going on five hours – his lucky number - when Brunhilde could almost feel him sitting next to her, laughing at the irony of it all, as she waited in the waiting room. The first sign she needed sleep, she thought to herself. Her resolve unbroken, she’d stay awake or at least as close to him as possible until he woke.

Until he woke. Because he will wake up. He has to wake up.

Sam Wilson. More than her partner. He is her everything, as she is his.

* * *

 

Brunhilde has plenty of recovery time off. Her normal shift with Sam long forgotten with her new routine of therapy, physical therapy, and then sitting with Sam. Sitting and waiting.

Today is no different. As the sunsets, she turns on the small speakers she’s set up in his room. Plays a few of his favorite records while reading him his favorite sections of the newspaper and a chapter or two of the book they had started buddy reading. 

Half way through a chapter, Brunhilde drifts to sleep, slumped precariously in her chair and partially on Sam’s bed, her free hand laced with his.

In her dream, she awakes.

She awakes, and it’s the same as any other morning: she goes for a run, she showers, she dresses, eats breakfast.

Only. It’s not the same.

She gets into her squad car by herself. The second seat to never be filled.

It’s a warm day and the windows get rolled down. She waits like everyone else at the stop light, for the draw bridge to rise and then fall back into its resting form. 

Brunhilde continues on her journey, driving her usual route until a call comes in.  A hit and run by the quarry office building. 

Almost instantly she’s there, lights flashing.

A lady sitting on the trunk of her car scowls at Brunhilde as she approaches.

“Took ya long enough. Ain’t even gonna catch the bastard that busted up the front of my car.”

“Ma’am. Can you tell me what happened?”

The woman talks and talks, painting the scene with dramatic detail and heightened distress.  The front of her car sporting a broken headlight and a few shallow scratches that would buff out easily. 

“Oh, I know you,” the lady gets distracted as she takes a closer look at Brunhilde. “Wasn’t your daddy Bud?”

“That’s what they called him, ma’am.”  

“Why couldn’t you have been more like your daddy? And ain’t your partner Sammy the Falcon? Ain’t that right?”

Brunhilde nods, clenching her jaw.

“Didn’t you steal him away from someone too? That was you, ain’t it? That and all those lives you took. You should be ashamed.. why’d they send you to help me, I never gonna know.”

Loosing her cool as quickly as she had gotten to the crash scene, Brunhilde lets loose her tongue. “My father, who taken from me when I was 12, wasn’t always the man he was when in uniform. I won’t ever forget it, and I hope you don’t either.”

The woman gasps at Brunhilde’s outburst.

“And Sam? I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t free to be taken. He saved me from both fire and a fire fight. How dare you act like you know what I’ve been through. I may be half your age, but I’ve lived twice as long as you and have done well enough to keep it to myself. I wear my badge with pride and protect all that I can; both in times of peace and in war.”

“Sammy ain’t never talked to me in such a tone!”

“You’re right, Sam wouldn’t talk to you like this. But you wouldn’t speak down to him either. Would you?”

The woman remains silent, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

“Women and men, those of us who are living, spend so long in this world of sorrow. Yet so many of us, like you, still don’t believe that we are constant companions with struggle and hardship. But Sam and I – how dare you even speak his name – we shall never ever be apart, he is always with me. Now lady, go on with your day!”

* * *

 

The slow steady beeping of the machines hooked up to Sam beep a little faster.  A squeeze to Brunhilde’s hand pulls her from the valley of her dreams.

“There’s my girl.”

“Sam?” She asks, bleary from sleep – not believing her eyes and ears.

Sam smiles weakly, “My Valkyrie.. you know I couldn’t..”

“Sam?” Her brows furrow, still entranced with the new fact that Sam has awaken. Is awake and talking, trying to talk. She picks up her cup of water from the side table and brings it to his lips.

He clears his throat, his smile grows, blinking slowly he looks her in the eyes, “I couldn’t leave you.” 


End file.
